


The King's Daughter

by lesbian_fields



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Familial Love, Kinda but not really, Mentions of Character Death, Other, Songfic, but no actual death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbian_fields/pseuds/lesbian_fields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A teenage Elicia Hughes reflects on memories of her father. Just a little drabble based on my own personal experiences after my fathers passing as well as the song "Even Now," by Dashboard Confessional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King's Daughter

I was four when my father passed away. Aside from that, I try not to remember much, just because it's easier. What's the point of holding onto someone you barely ever knew? A distant memory of a stranger isn't my father-it's just that, a distant memory. 

I do remember, though, more than I probably should, even. All I have left of him are my thoughts, but they are vivid ones, not hazy back flash type memories that make it seem as though dead always means gone. 

I recall how he would try to cook dinner on occasion, either forgetting or not caring that that was my mother's forte. He would usually burn something, or even worse, set something on fire; however, there was a rare time or two where he had actually managed to produce something edible. Mom cleaned too, although she stopped doing the dishes for nearly a month after his funeral, as if waiting for him to get fed up and do the dishes himself. Of course, he never did. 

One of the most prominent things about him was the cologne that he wore. Although he wore it only for special occasions, I can pinpoint that scent from miles away. The spicy yet mellow aroma reminds me of when I was young and unable to sleep; whenever he wasn't off doing something or other for the military, he would insist upon being the one to lull me back into dreamland. Had I known at that point what was to come, if I had even slightly comprehended the severity of losing a parent, I would have stayed up later, maybe even pretended that I couldn't sleep. From this thought sprouts the sound of his voice, which I can hear in my head even now, soothing me to sleep when thoughts of monsters that I've spent my whole life running from threaten to claw at me from the dark corners of my room.

I recollect old memories of his friends-people he brought into my life that are still a part of me today. There is no time that I can remember where I didn't feel the presence of Roy and Riza, who were not frequent visitors until after my father's passing, as well as Winry and the Elrics, who have been almost impossible to shake figures since my birth. Once again I am thankful for my dad as I wonder briefly of a life without Mr. and Mrs. Stoic and the two boys who may as well be my siblings at this point, then decide that it would be a bit too bleak for my tastes.

He may be dead, but that doesn't mean that he's gone. My father's memory lives on in the hearts of every life that he touched, and those lives are many. I promise myself that every time my mind threatens to erase every thought I have of him, I will pull out the picture that I keep in my purse and remind myself of the only man I've ever truly loved.


End file.
